


Never Again

by mathildia



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Magic makes you crazy, Magic makes you sick, Neverland, Rape Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 07:33:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3166682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mathildia/pseuds/mathildia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Neverland Emma's desperate and angry, Hook's smitten and willing. The result of these things isn't good for either of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Again

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote sad, angsty, Captain Swan. Cuz that's how I like them.

He’s a convenience. Some kind of respite. Enough human contact to soothe her without asking her to give more. She has no more to give. He’s whatever she needs and if she asks he’ll just make her come over and over again with his face crushed between her legs, and her with her entire forearm jammed in her own mouth to keep quiet, as the damn camp is just - like - _there_. 

And he’ll hold her afterwards, if she wants him to. Sometimes she even does. 

Everything in this place is wet - damp or dripping. Even the air feels like it’s half water, sludgy and slow in her lungs. And it smells rotten, sickly with death. Apparently some of the plants are carnivorous, the vegetation likely is full of fetid carcasses. Dead things. And, through it all, the magic rolls around inside her like nausea. She’d thought the sick feeling was the ship, at first, but once her feet were on the island’s thick, sweet soil, it got worse. Gross and disorientating. _Magic_. It’s like she doesn’t know which way is up.

But all of that pales compared to losing Henry. That is ice inside her, a wave of grief that she almost can’t control. Part of it, she’s channelled into the rage that drives her on, the sheer blind urge to find Pan and take him apart for touching her child. She will rip this island to filthy pieces, kill anyone in her way. She will get him back or die trying… and sometimes, when those feelings overwhelm her, she looks at Snow and wonders how she’s ever going to forgive the mother that let her go so lightly, now she knows this rage that shakes her to her bones.

That’s her engine, she runs on pain - like she always has - but there is so much black energy left. And he’s the only place she can put it. He’s probably the only one who could take it, even. Perhaps Regina could too, but Emma can feel Regina’s anger and grief like waves of danger, higher and stronger even, than hers. She knows she can't go near Regina right now. She isn’t stupid enough to try that. Yet. 

So she gives it to him. And he takes it. A great fountain of unresolved feelings. All the abandonment and hurt - all of it - all the rage at the injustice of finding her way home, finally finding a family, the child she’d never stopped dreaming about, only to have it all snatched away again. She will always be alone, she knows that now. She will always be that lost girl, just a tiny baby, left with nothing and no one.

Sometimes, when they sneak away from camp - supposed to be watching, risking everyone for this necessary madness - she wants him on his back. She climbs onto him and uses him like a dildo, just a jutting thing there to get her off. But squeezing at him, wanting to wring an orgasm out of him and see him crumble under her. One time, as he came, he said her name. Just once. One single plain, “Emma", and she back-handed him around the face and said, “No talking.” 

He didn’t speak again, and looked away from her as she finished herself with her fingers while he grew soft inside her. He has a nice dick for this. The perfect size and with a good curve to it. Sometimes the thought crosses her mind that they seem to fit together. But that’s a stupid thing to think at a time like this.

Other times, she will look at him and say, “Do it. Just take what you want.” That happened on the hardest days. Days when no progress has been made, when they’ve lost a battle, when Pan has done something to make then brittle and broken as a team. Or when she’s had to use the kind of magic that makes her feel used and raw.

“Are you sure? Don’t ask for that unless you’re sure.” He makes it sound like a threat, but she knows it’s a plea. 

She always nods. She’s always sure. 

And he’ll look at her for moment and then something dark will cast across his eyes and he’ll come for her, fast and vicious, teeth bared, taking her down with a kick to the knees, rolling her onto her stomach. There, in the dirt, he’ll wrench her clothes aside. And he’ll be heavy on her back, growling as he enters her, too quick and too dry and she’ll have to press her face to the ground to keep from screaming. If David of Snow or any of them woke and discovered this, he’d be a dead man, before she had a chance to explain. If she even could explain.

But it works - this - it makes everything fall away. He has a hand in her hair, holding her face to the ground as he whispers nastily in her ear, “See I told you, darling, I told you I’d make this good for you.” And even as that sounds a little fake and forced, she feels certain he has done this before. Snarled those words before.

There are times, quite frequent times, when she doesn’t even want his cock at all. She wants him to drop to his knees while she’s pressed back against a tree, touching her own tits or holding his hair while he goes to work with his mouth. He’s good at that too. 

That he’s good at this is a thing she keeps on noticing, can’t help noticing. That’s he’s always hard for her, always thrusts in that way that makes her see stars, even if he’s driving her into he forest floor, that he always makes her come and that, whatever she asks of him, he will always nod and do it. Do exactly that.

And he’ll hold her afterwards, if she wants him to. Sometimes she even does. 

*

When she has Henry back - and she almost can’t believe it because she never even let herself dream - she doesn’t sleep. She wraps herself around him and lies in the bunk with her eyes open, as if she’s willing any creature to dare take him from her now. 

When he comes into the cabin she startles, all her reflexes springy. He doesn’t even really look at her. He says, “There’s a leaf, if you want it. It keeps you awake. There’s some in a jar in the middle locker. Help yourself. It’s good for two, three straight nights, then you start to see things that aren't there.”

“Thank you,” she says. Not moving. Not willing to disentwine from Henry for a second. 

“Regina has-“

“I know she has.” She knows there’s magic everywhere. Her head is rolling with it. 

Hook turns to go. To his departing back she says, “It can’t happen anymore.”

He doesn’t look round as he says, “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr
> 
> http://mathildia.tumblr.com/


End file.
